Running with the Pack
by eellewzeeya
Summary: The powerhouse of the underworld in Brooklyn is about to wage war on the toughest gang in Manhattan. The Brooklyn newsies are caught in the middle of it, but not at all like they expect. Deceit woven throughout, there is more than one traitor in the midst
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Newsies or any of the characters from the movie. While a good number of the characters in this are mine, there are many who belong to others. Everyone's character is their own, and much thanks to them for letting me borrow them for a while.

Without a glance to anyone else in the room, a tall young man walked up to the bar. He leaned up against it and ordered vodka, straight, before turning to girl sitting on the stool next to him.

"What do you want, now?" she asked, the corners of her mouth twitching with the desire to break into a smirk. Without bothering to look at him, she took a drag off the cigarette hanging from her fingers. To the average outsider they could look like siblings, both with dark hair and eyes, except that he snaked his arm around her waist as if he owned her in a purely non-brotherly way. He scowled, picking up his drink and taking a long sip.

"A little respect would be nice, Emma," he growled. "Special project for you." She finally looked at him, a glint in her eyes.

"Go on." He finished his drink and leaned down, his nose brushing against her ear as he whispered to her. As he went further and further in explanation her eyes glimmered more. When he had finished she turned, looking up at him. "And if I refuse?"

"Like hell you will!" he laughed harshly. "Find him, get in, and take it down. I know you've been waiting for this. _Immer treu_." She murmured his last words back to him, looking back down into her glass. He tossed some coins down on the bar and walked out as he had come in – without a notice to anyone else.

"Damn, Dorjan," she murmured, finishing her drink. "It's about time."


	2. Chapter 1

A glance up to the darkening sky told her it was going to be a long, stormy day. Emmaline stood under the awning of a building, surveying the street as she took a long drag off her cigarette. Her gaze followed several young men as they walked by her, but merely flicked cigarette ash at their retreating backs after they had passed.

_If he doesn't hurry up, this is going to wait until tomorrow_, she thought, frowning. _I am not standing out in the rain waiting. _

Thunder rang out through the streets as her eyes locked into a young man walking down the street. There was confidence in his step, power in his eyes and an arrogance about him that told her it had to be him. She took one last drag and threw what was left of her cigarette to the ground, breathing the smoke out slowly. As he drew closer, she became more confident in her assumptions about him.

The red suspenders sealed it.

Quickly looking him over, she slowly stepped out into his path, acting as if she had tripped and fallen into him. "Easy, doll," came a sharp reply, his hands catching her arms to keep them both from tumbling to the ground.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," she mumbled, remaining unsteady on her feet and bracing herself against him to keep standing. "I don't know what's come over me." She let herself go slightly limp in his grasp, her fingers trailing along his side and feeling the pocket watch in his pocket.

"Just stand up, will ya?" Her fingers swiftly undid the clasp to the watch, detaching the chain from his trousers. She slowly stood up straighter, pulling away from him as she kept her fingers around the chain. He released his hold on her, watching for a second to make sure she was not going to fall again, and then turned and walked away. Emma stood still, watching the watch slip out of his pocket as he stepped away from her and quickly putting it into her own.

Nonchalantly walking into an alleyway, she took the watch out of her pocket and turned it over in her hand. She wasn't the best pickpocket out there but she could get the job done. If she had actually been in it for the watch, she would have been halfway to home instead of standing in an alley, waiting to be caught. She turned to see if he had realized his folly yet and came face to face with him – and he did not look happy.

"Give it back. Now." The coldness of his voice matched the iciness of his glare.

"What?" she asked innocently, taking a step back. He grabbed her wrist and pulled

her back toward him.

"My watch, give it back." She pulled to try to get her wrist away from him but his grip was too strong. "I know you have it, give it back."

"Please," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. "You don't understand."

"What's there to understand? It's mine, you took it, give it back."

"You don't understand." He shook his head, pulling her in closer and deciding to search for it himself, being anything but gentle as he tried to find where she was hiding it. "Stop! Don't!"

"Shoulda thought about that before ya nicked my watch, sweetheart," he muttered, finding success quickly as he reached into her pocket. She grabbed his hand as he pulled it away, the watch inside, and tried to pry his fingers apart. He was not normally inclined to be violent toward women, but this girl was getting on his last nerves. Her fingers slipped off his as he shook her off, headed toward the mouth of the alley.

"They'll kill me!" Her scream echoed off the alley walls and he turned back to her, a mixture of curiosity and concern on his face. She looked up at him, her eyes wild. "Please," she whimpered her voice much softer but not any more contained in emotion. "They'll kill me…"

"Who will kill you?" His curiosity had won out, but his guard was far from lowered.

"The Rebellion," she whispered, her voice trembling as she looked around the alley to make sure they were alone. "They… they make me steal and if I don't bring anything home," she broke off as she drew in a shaky breath, "they say they'll kill me." From the scowl forming on his face, she knew she was saying the right things to get him on her side.

"That so?" She nodded, leaning back against the wall for support as her eyes flitted up and down the alley. He had been suspicious of her ties and she seemed to be confirming his thoughts. If there was one group of people he hated in the city it was them. They preyed on the weak and dragged them down into the grime, claiming the right to decide what kind of street trash was allowed in the city. Newsies were the lowest on their list. "Stop that, they're not here."

"How do you know?" she demanded frantically, wringing her hands as she dropped her gaze from his. "They say they'll kill me… they say…" She bit her lip, looking up at him again. "I don't want to steal, I don't, I'm sorry for trying to take from you, I just don't want to die…"

"Can it," he muttered, looking her over. "You swear you don't want to steal?" She nodded firmly, not looking away from him. "If I catch word of you so much as touching someone else's shit, you're out, got it?"

"Touching someone's stuff where?"

"This ain't a free ride, girlie, alright?" He frowned as he put his watch in his pocket. "You've gotta earn your keep and as honest as it can be. Plus, since you tried to pick me and all, I'm not letting you off so easy." She watched him as he seemed to mull over the options in his head. "I can give you a place to stay, but only because I hate the fucking Rebellion." She nodded solemnly, holding a smile in. He was doing exactly what Dorjan said he would do – almost verbatim. "You're to keep your mouth shut and take orders, understand?"

"I understand," she replied softly. Biting her lip, she tucked her hair behind her ear. "Um, who are you?" He stared at her for a long moment, as if to see if she was actually serious in her questioning, and then let out a laugh.

"Doll, you've got a lot to learn. Spot Conlon." He spit in his palm and held it out to her, as if testing to see what she would do. Without breaking eye contact with him, she did the same, shaking hands with him. "I _am_ Brooklyn. Everyone, except you apparently, knows that." He had the arrogance just as Dorjan had said, the cockiness and the amazing self-obsession. If she had been any more prepared in how he would act, she would worry for how much Dorjan had been following him. "You are?"

"Emmaline." He looked at her, an eyebrow raised, waiting for her to continue. "Emmaline Johnston." There was no way in hell she was give him her real name, at least not her surname. Without her full name, it would be nearly impossible for him to find out anything about her, and that was what she was hoping. The less he found out the better.

"Like I said, keep your mouth shut and take orders. Don't steal other people's shit." Without another word, he turned and headed out of the alley, swearing under his breath as the rain started to fall. She followed along behind him, ducking under awnings as they walked up the street. He led her into a large house that had seen better days, a sign over the door advertising it as a lodging house for newsies. Stepping inside, she quickly looked around as she pushed her wet hair out of her face.

"Sign your name." She obediently picked up the pencil sitting on a ledger of sorts and signed her name, with the surname she had decided to use. "We don't get many girls, so everyone's in the same bunkroom. You'll get used to it." She nodded, biting her lip to keep from smirking. "Tomorrow we'll talk about what you're going to do to earn your keep here. For now, keep your trap shut."

As they turned to walk up the stairs, an imposing figure came walking down. "Got a new girl for yourself tonight, Conlon?" drawled the deep voice of the young man walking toward them.

"Watch it, Rome, she's going to be here for a while," Spot smirked, watching his friend look her over. "Going out?"

"Patrol," he shrugged, his eyes still lingering on her. After a long moment, he turned and headed out the door without another word. Emmaline frowned and followed Spot up the stairs into the bunkroom. For it being a lodging house, it seemed practically abandoned.

"A lot of duties to get done all the time," he said, throwing a blanket onto an empty bunk. "We're rarely all here at the same time, but Brooklyn wouldn't run without us so it's a price we have to pay." He winked at her and headed for another room.

"You owe me, Dor," she murmured as she sat down on the bunk he had given her. She had known going into it that she was going to have to deal with a house full of boys who had probably never seen much of a girl before, but she did not know how well she was going to handle it when she was not supposed to fight back.

"What do you mean, the Rebellion?" Spot glared at the impertinent person in front of him, who thought it was fine to talk about important matters loud enough for anyone to hear.

"Just go find Dragon, alright?" he continued, scowling. "Find him and tell him I need to talk to him, otherwise don't mention this to anyone." The boy scuttled off and Spot settled back on his bunk, resting his hands behind his head as he closed his eyes. He couldn't believe his luck, finding this girl. Finally he had an inside source to the Rebellion, a way to find out what was going on before it happened. Who would have guessed it would have come in the form of a girl trying to steal his watch.

"You called?" A dry voice broke him out of his reverie and back to the situation at hand. He opened his eyes and looked at the boy standing in his doorway. "Some of us have things to do, Conlon," Dragon continued in his British drawl, leaning against the doorframe. "We can't always just come and your beck and call—"

"Can it, you asshole," Spot muttered, sitting up and motioning for him to come in and shut the door. "I have a job for you."

"Imagine that." Dragon shut the door as he walked into the room. He remained impassive as he settled in a chair across from Spot, folding his arms. "Well?"

"I need you to find out everything you can about someone." Dragon raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. There was a smirk playing across his face, but he knew better than to keep picking at everything Spot said. "Emmaline Johnston."

"Doesn't sound familiar." He shrugged as he leaned back in the chair, racking his brain for traces of her name. "Emmaline. That the girl I heard Rome mentioning on his way down the road?" Spot answered with a nod and Dragon smirked. "Poor girl."

"She's tangled with the Rebellion, Drag." He could tell he had piqued the other boy's interest when he sat up so quickly he almost made the chair topple. "She tried to steal my watch – said they'd kill her if she didn't come back with something. All I know is we can use her."

"This could finally be it," Dragon muttered, more so to himself than Spot. He stood, giving his leader a pointed look. "Don't fuck it up." He ducked as a book flew toward his face, it hitting the wall with a loud thud. "Get a bloody sense of humor!" This time he had to lunge to the side to avoid Spot's cane. "Alright, alright, I'm going." Still smirking, he walked out of the room and into the night to search.

"Get up!" a defiant voice roared, filling the bunkroom with groans and swearing. Emmaline opened her eyes, staring up at the bottom of the bunk above her. Her heart sunk into her stomach when she remembered where she was rather than in the comfort of her own bed at home.

"Come on, girlie, time to get up." A shadow loomed over her and she looked up to see Rome smirking down at her. "That face isn't gonna pay the rent. Although," he paused as his eyes ran over her again, "it just might." She closed her eyes to keep from glaring at him and waited until she heard him walk off, chuckling to himself.

Emmaline got up from her bunk and sighed, examining the chaos that had become the bunkroom as everyone was getting ready. She carefully made her way to the washroom and claimed the sink furthest from the door. Ignoring the loud rabble all around her, she calmly washed her face and walked out of the washroom, down to the lobby.

"Made it out alive, I see." Spot was leaning against the front desk, watching her come down the stairs. "Better than I expected, anyway." She shrugged and walked over to him. "Go back to the Rebellion."

"What?" Her eyes widened as she looked at him, biting her lip. He smirked at her expression and shook his head.

"Relax, Emmy, I—"

"Don't call me Emmy." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Her tone had taken a turn for the sharper side and her hands clenched at her sides. Spot held up his hands, nonplussed at her exclamation.

"Relax, _Emmaline_," he continued, looking at her with more curiosity now. "I'm just trying to keep them from killing you. Unless you would have it some other way." He held his hand out to her and dropped a locket into hers. "We'll make sure you seem like you're stealing. In return, you give us inside information on the Rebellion. What they are planning, where they are, everything."

"That's what you're going to have me do, to make up for—"

"Yeah. Simple, isn't it?" He stepped away from the desk, closer to her, and spoke in a much lower tone. "The minute they tell you that you can go, you come straight back here, got it? If you even try to run on us we'll find you and we won't be as forgiving the second time around." She nodded and closed her hand, the locket inside. "Well get going. Manhattan isn't getting any closer."

With a final glance up the stairs, Emmaline made her way out of the house. She quickly walked toward the bridge and looped back through the docks. It was too early to pretend to walk all the way to Manhattan, she decided, and she wanted to get some actual sleep. The constant slamming of doors and boys came in and out of the bunkroom had kept her from sleeping more than an hour at a time and she wasn't going to do well with her façade if she didn't manage to get some rest before heading back.

Walking between two of the buildings, she disappeared down a staircase that hid in the shadows. She knocked on the door, leaning against the wall. After a long moment of nothing happened, she sighed. "Open the fucking door!"

"Now, now, Emma. That's no way to do it. What if you're at gunpoint?" The door muffled the voice, but it was clear that the person on the other side was amused.

"Öffnen sie die tür." The door swung open slightly to reveal a tall, dark-haired young man. "Shut it, Ace, leave me alone." The door was latched behind her with several different locks and she wandered inside sleepily.

"Dorjan will want to see you." He had caught her hand before she could get far and pulled her around to face him, his light eyes staring down into hers. She stopped, looking up into his eyes with a frown. A long moment passed as they stood like that until she cleared her throat.

"Alright, fine," she muttered, pulling her hand away from him and breaking the gaze. "Where is he?"

"Sleeping. Like most reasonable people do at this hour." She rolled her eyes and headed for a room across the building. Entering it, she saw Dorjan lying motionless on his bed, facedown. She silently crawled onto the bed, laying beside him and speaking into his ear.

"You wanted to see me?" He groaned, turning his head away from her with a vehement curse. "Ace said you wanted to see me." Turning back to her, he opened his eyes and glared. "What?"

"Sleeping, Emma," he growled, flipping onto his back and rubbing at his eyes. "That's what I was doing before you rudely fucking woke me up." He yawned and looked over at her sleepily, his expression irritated and curious. "Now. Tell me what happened."

* * *

Across the river, the sun was fighting its way into a dark, dank building through the many dusty windows. It shone weakly on the young men sitting at a table, deep in discussion. There were not many people Cage, the leader of the Rebellion, would trust to be in his inner circle, but the few he had sitting before him had proven themselves to be good enough to make it in.

"Can we hurry this up?" muttered Pierce, the most impertinent of the boys. His tall, muscular frame was still imposing as he sat slouched in his chair, staring at the table. His attention was difficult to keep, as proven by his fingers tapping on the table already, before the meeting had even officially started. Cage ignored him, and leaned back in his chair.

"We need to get everyone as sharp as we can," he drawled, studying the faces of those around the table. "I want to make a stand against this scum in our city."

"Haven't we already done that?" Pierce interjected, once again only getting a sharp glance from his leader. He shifted his gaze from the table to Max, who was sitting across from him. He knew Max wouldn't say anything – Max rarely said anything. From the looks of things, Max was ready to do whatever Cage asked of him as long as it involved a fight. There was a glint in the boy's brown eyes that could not be mistaken.

"These Manhattan newsies are nothing – we've already shown them that," Cage continued as he stood, walking around the table slowly. "We're going bigger. We need to do something that will make everyone see we mean business." He stopped across from Cards and looked over at him. Cards, the smallest in stature of the group gathered there, looked up from underneath his bowler hat and raised an eyebrow. "Somewhere close to home for some of us."


	3. Chapter 2

"What'd you find out?" Spot snapped at the tall boy standing in front of him. Without flinching, Dragon just stared back at him for a moment before replying.

"Nothing." The response was curt as Dragon crossed his arms, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"What the fuck does that mean, nothing?"

"Just what it says. We did not find anything. Reuben's been all over the damn city trying to find something." Dragon's tone was even but his irritation was shown in his features. "And when you can't find anything on someone it means they have everything to hide."

"She's just a girl, it can't be that bad." Spot's voice was more relaxed, now, as he shrugged. "You're paranoid."

"Just a girl?" Dragon scoffed. "God, you're thick!" He stepped back to avoid the fist coming his way and shook his head. "Don't you remember what she told you when you met her?" He allowed Spot several moments of thought before rolling his eyes. "The Rebellion, you twit!" This time he wasn't so lucky and got caught by Spot's cane. "Fuck!"

"Watch your mouth next time," Spot growled, using his cane to poke his top informant in the chest.

"When you get over your snit – _CHRIST, Spot!_ – will you at least listen?" Dragon scowled, rubbing his shoulder that had just suffered for his words. Despite the physical abuse, his mouth twitched with a smirk.

"Look harder if you're so suspicious, will you?" Spot sheathed his cane through a belt loop, clearly willing to pull it out again if deemed necessary by Dragon's unwieldy and disrespecting mouth.

"Oh yes, look harder he says," he stated somewhat mockingly. "That's rich, coming from someone who doesn't have to look for a single damn thing."

"Is that not," Spot responded, through clenched teeth, "the precise reason I have you?"

"Is it _really_?" Dragon responded, with faux shock, if he had never been told the reason before. "Then wouldn't you think I had checked everywhere before coming to tell you that we've turned over nothing? Why wouldn't I try as hard as I could before having to do that? If you think I'm not doing everything I can—"

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Spot stood there scowling him, both of them glaring at each other with contempt. "Drag, just because you've been my friend for a long time doesn't mean…"

"Oh, I know," Dragon muttered, still looking at him through narrowed eyes. "Just because you've known me for so long doesn't mean you get to order me around like some bleeding idiot that can't tell Brooklyn from fucking Ohio. You told me to do my job, I did it. I did it as best I could and just because we couldn't turn up a damn thing on this broad doesn't mean we didn't try our best. I'll keep my eyes and ears open but I can't promise anything. I still say I don't trust her."

"Just keep your mouth shut around everyone, understand?" Dragon shrugged and Spot gave him a pointed look.

"Alright, alright," he muttered, holding up his hands in defeat. "I'll keep my trap shut and you'll stop treating me like I know nothing." He shook his head with a sigh, and then a smirk once again tugged at his lips. "It's a shame you have to pretend like you're such an asshole, though." He ducked as he ran out of the room, narrowly avoiding yet another blow to his body and ego from Spot's cane as he went.

* * *

"I'm sick of those damn newsies thinking they own this city, our city!" Cage roared, speaking to his troops like a minister spoke to his congregation at a revival. He could see all their eyes locked on him, listening to every word he was saying. The Rebellion was always ready to hear Cage rant and rave about taking down the street rats they all despised. "The Manhattan newsies are weak, we already have their fear. To get the entire city to listen, to pay notice, we need something bigger."

Surveying the group in front of him, he fell silent. He fully expected one of the people staring back at him to volunteer the idea running through his mind. Sure enough, he heard a throat clear. "Brooklyn."

Now, instead of looking at Cage, everyone in the room was looking at Cards. No one had noticed him listening as he had been clearly attached to Cats, per usual. A twisted smile slowly spread over Cage's face as he nodded at Cards.

"Brooklyn," he repeated, pointing at Cards. "Brooklyn is what we need to take to show this asshole street scum we mean business. Manhattan is nothing compared to Brooklyn. If we take it, no one will question us." He could hear muttering scattered throughout the room as he stopped talking again.

"There's a problem in Brooklyn," Tanya spoke up, looking up through her straight dark hair at Cage. "A certain pack of dogs."

* * *

It had been a week since she had arrived in the house before Emmaline took any information to the leader of Brooklyn. Somehow, Dorjan was supplying her with information to take to him, though she knew better than to ask how he was getting it. While he normally played the spy and did his own dirty work, there was no way he was able to sneak about in Manhattan near the Rebellion; a dark time in his past kept that from being possible.

"They're planning something for in about two or three weeks," she stated quietly, in Spot's room after everyone else in the house had gone to bed. "They didn't tell me any details yet, but I know we have a little time to get something together."

"A few weeks," Spot repeated, frowning as he thought it over. "We need to know where and when. Those are the most important. After that comes I need to know how many and what to expect." She nodded and turned to go. "Good work, Emma." Since it was coming from him, she knew he meant it.

"I have to go back tonight," she said suddenly, remembering quickly that there was a meeting at the house. She looked back at him as if seeking permission. He stared at her for a long moment, and then nodded. Without another word, she hurried downstairs and out of the house, taking shortcuts right and left to get to the house quickly. The shortcuts, conveniently, made the hardest path to follow if one did not know where they were going. She hated going back and forth to the house, knowing that at any time someone could be following her. The darkness of the night was her safeguard and she took full advantage of it.

Once more, she leapt down the staircase hidden in the shadows. She knocked on it once. "Öffnen sie die tür." A few seconds and several locks clicking open later, she was inside.

"Cutting it awfully close, Emma." Standing there, the doorman for the evening, with a smirk spread across his face was Hades. He tossed his dark, scraggly hair out of his eyes as he pointed down the hall. "They're waiting for you." With a murmur of thanks, she made her was down the hall and into a small dining room, sliding into an empty seat at the table.

There were not many members of the House of the Howling Coyotes. They kept themselves to an exclusive few, a handful, due to the nature of their business. If anyone was missing from the gathering, they were not mentioned, for if they were out on business it was better not to ask.

Dorjan, the leader of their entourage, was seated at the head of the table. His hardened expression had taken years to perfect to the point where he was just intimidating to see. He ruled with an iron fist and fought with it, too. While everyone at the table knew they had their moments of fun with him, they also knew better than to provoke him too much or when he was already in a bad mood. When he glanced around the table, everyone's eyes turned to him.

"The coyote," he began, "is a great symbol." To everyone's exasperation, he began every meeting with the same story. They all knew it by heart and could say it along with him, but still he demanded to do it every single time. The group seated around the table exchanged looks of desperation as he continued. "It is the symbol of a trickster. It is mischievous and evasive. It is thought, by some, to be what brought death into this world." Here he paused, as he always did, and Celia looked over at Emmaline, rolling her eyes. "You are to be the coyote."

Celia was one of the only other girls in the Coyotes, and a good friend to Emmaline. They had been brought in around the same time and while they had moved up in the House at different speeds, their friendship had remained intact. Celia tossed her impeccable dark, curly hair over her shoulder and looked back to Dorjan, who was preparing to speak again.

"We're going after the Rebellion." Everyone in the room but Emmaline sat up straighter in their chairs, staring at him in disbelief.

"You're joking," Ace muttered, shaking his head.

"No, I'm not joking." Dorjan looked irritated at their lack of enthusiasm.

"You are aware they have a few more people on their side than we do, right Dor?" Aurora, who had been sitting quietly at the other end of the table, was now leaning in and looking down at him.

"No, Aurora, I forgot to count," Dorjan snapped, scowling down at her. Her eyes narrowed, like hazel slits against her fair skin. "You think I wouldn't take that into account?" Emmaline smirked, watching him get flustered. He had expected them to be excited at this prospect but had clearly overestimated his news.

"I think she meant," interceded Celia, "was how are we going to make up for the fact that they have so many more people than us? Picking them off one by one can't be the answer, or we would've done that long ago."

"We did do that for a while," Emmaline offered. "Remember? Not that long ago, either. It didn't work that well, since they knew who to blame."

"Stop gabbing and I'll tell you!" roared Dorjan, pounding his fist into the table as he stood up. "God, all of you can't shut up for two minutes put together! This is important and you're making small talk through it all!" Silence fell around the table as they all looked at him once more, much more somber than before. He glared at all of them before he continued. "We're getting more of Brooklyn on our side. Not that they know it, they're just pawns. They're useful pawns, though."

"You're being cryptic," muttered Celia, but pursed her lips as he turned his gaze onto her.

"We're getting the Brooklyn newsies on our side." He glanced at Emmaline briefly before continuing. "We need numbers and they're good fighters. Best of all, they hate the Rebellion almost as much as we do. They don't know a thing about us; they just know they're getting inside information." He looked around the table, as if daring any one of them to say something against this idea, but his plan seemed to have settled most of the doubts they had been holding. "I'll keep you updated."

Taking it as a sign the meeting was over, as Dorjan sat back down, everyone else around the table slowly got to their feet and left the cramped room. Hades surveyed them from down the hall but didn't say anything. They dispersed to the various rooms in the house except for Emmaline. She went to a small cupboard in the hallway and pulled out a bottle and some glasses. Wandering back into the dining room, she found Dorjan just as she had left him. He glanced at her as she came in and motioned her over after she had shut the door.

"How's it looking?" He took the glasses from her and set them on the table, watching her as she poured into them.

"Everything seems alright." She slid into the chair next to him and picked up one of the glasses. "No one's getting suspicious and they seem riled up." He smirked, taking a long drink from his glass. "I might kill some of them, though."

"Now, Emma, that's not the job I put you on," he grinned. "Maybe afterwards, though, if you feel really passionate about it. I can't exactly stop you from killing people."

"You usually encourage it." She drained her glass and raised the bottle to pour them both some more. Watching him finish off what she had just poured, she took in a deep breath. "Dor, how are you getting this information about the Rebellion? I mean, I can wager a guess, but…"

"You don't need to know that, Emma," he said, shaking his head. "You know better than to ask." She frowned but did not push the matter. There had been more than one person missing at the meeting, so she could not figure it out from that alone. "You need to get back, though right?"

"I told him I had to go back to the Rebellion tonight, so not really, I guess," she mused as she raised her glass to her lips. She kept her eyes on him as she finished it off and set it back down. "Do you want me to go back?"

"Naw, you should stay here," he said, glancing at the shut door for a moment. "It's too quiet."

"You saying I'm loud?"

"So what if I am?" he replied gruffly, but not without a smirk. "You are." She punched his arm lightly and he laughed. After a long, shared silence he sighed. "We can't lose you, Emma, alright? I gave this to you because I knew you could handle it and I trusted you with it, but it's not stable. They can't find out about you – probably not even after it's finished. Who knows what could happen."

"I get it, Dorjan," she murmured, looking away from him. "I get that it's a big deal and I have to be careful. Don't worry so much, I know what I'm doing."

"That's probably what worries me the most."

* * *

Emmaline stayed away from the house for a while, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that she kept disappearing and not leaving the borough. She knew there was constant patrolling of the borders and it would not go unnoticed that she was never actually going to Manhattan. Dorjan had told her he would keep her busy but so far he hadn't followed through on his promise. Starting to lose hope with him, she resigned to going back to the lodging house for the evening, heading straight for the bunkroom.

"Someone was looking for you." Emmaline stopped, her foot on the bottom step. She hadn't noticed anyone in the lobby when she entered but now that she looked harder she saw Dragon sitting behind the desk, his feet propped up on it. "Left something for you."

"What?" She slowly walked toward him, a pit forming in her stomach. They should know better than to come here, why would they risk it?

"Tall bloke." Dragon lowered his long legs and stood. "Seemed upset you weren't here."

"What did he leave?"

"We don't want people from the Rebellion here," he continued, as if he hasn't heard her. "Especially since they shouldn't know you're here."

"He wasn't from the Rebellion, there's no way they could know," Emmaline snapped, holding her hand out in front of her. "What did they leave?"

"Just a letter." He held it out to her and she felt herself start to breathe easier. She could see it had been opened but that didn't matter; all the correspondence that came from Dorjan was in German anyway. As she reached for it, he pulled it out of her reach. "I didn't know you were German."

"Apparently there are a lot of things you don't know." Emmaline could see her words had hit him hard; this was, after all, someone who prided himself of knowing everything about everyone. She leaned forward and snatched the letter from his hand while he was still brooding over her comment, the anger spreading across his features quickly. "Thank you." Her tone was sarcastic and flat as she thanked him and turned, going upstairs.

Unfolding the letter when she got to the bunkroom, her eyes flitted to the bottom first. The lines at the bottom of the page, where a signature would normally be, told her hat her suspicions were correct. She scanned over it in its entirety, frowning at the briefness of it. It made sense that it lacked detail; they knew there were other people in the city who could read German – they weren't stupid. She just wanted it to say more than a time, a place, and the nature of the meeting. It closed with the familiar '_immer treu_' and ended abruptly.

Twisting her hair up into a bun, she went outside and pulled a box of matches from her pocket. She struck a match against the wall and set fire to the letter, letting it float to the ground and watching it burn. She heard a soft whistle behind her.

"So you're the tall bloke," she mused softly, turning to look down the she shadows of the street. "I should've known."

"He says you're late." Ace spoke quietly as he stepped out of the shadows.

"Of course I'm late, I just got it." She scowled down at the ash on the ground, formerly a letter. "How was I supposed to be on time if I didn't know about it until afterwards?" She sighed as he motioned for her to walk along with him.

They had only walked a few blocks when Ace muttered, "that was quick." She looked over at him and he jerked his head backwards. They were being followed.

Walking in the darkness of the streets they barely spoke to each other. She should have guessed that Dragon would have her followed, especially after how she had acted with him. Approaching their destination, he spoke to her in a distinct German murmur. "In the backroom."

Nodding, she walked into the pub. Ace continued down the street as if he didn't even notice her absence. She glanced around the pub briefly before walking toward the back wall – toward a door. The doorman looked as if he wanted to stop her but he didn't. He had his orders, she knew, and he wouldn't want to go against Dorjan.

"Job for you." She had barely shut the door before Dorjan started. Raising an eyebrow, she sat across from him. "Shouldn't take that long."

"I hope not," she said, leaning back in her chair. "Kind of busy these days."

"Aren't we all," he responded dryly. "Don't start, Emma, you know I wouldn't ask if I didn't need you." When she nodded, he continued. "Astoria – Hoyt. Look above the candy shop, there's a gentleman there I think you'll like."

"Astoria, hm?" she mused, rising from her chair. "Sounds like a nice day trip." She nodded to him, turning to leave.

"I don't want you going anywhere unarmed."

"Come on, Dor," she scowled, facing him again. "It's not suspicious to be carrying a gun or anything…"

"Don't let them see it," he retorted, ignoring her look of contempt. "That's an order, Emmaline. And get that job done tomorrow."

"Bossy," she muttered, but nodded once again before heading out the door. All she could hope was for no one to follow her to Astoria. One misstep with this job and the entire plan was gone.


	4. Chapter 3

Emmaline snuck up the fire escape, quickly peeking into the bunkroom before entering. As opposed to her normally calm demeanor, she looked worried. It probably had something to do with the very literal blood on her hands. She sucked into the bunkroom and made a beeline for the washroom.

"What happened to you?" She froze, looking over to the doorway. Reuben was looking at her curiously, an eyebrow raised.

"Nothing," she lied, resuming her path to the other room. He was to her in a few steps, his long legs easily closing the distance.

"Doesn't look like nothing." He took her hands into his, looking down at them. She pulled them away and frowned.

"I'm fine, leave me be." She went into the washroom and shut the door behind her. Quickly turning on the water in one of the sinks, she grabbed a bar of soap and started scrubbing at her hands. She had just managed to get all the blood off when she heard the door open behind her.

"Go away," she ordered, turning the water off and drying her hands.

"Not likely." The voice came from closer than she had expected, and she turned to find herself face to face with Spot. "Reuben said you were all bloody." He eyed the water still draining from the sink, tinted red. There was also blood on her clothing, he noted, but didn't comment.

"You should see the other guy," she deadpanned, pulling her hair back out of her face.

"Where is he?"

"Please," she scoffed, walking away from him and back into the bunkroom. "I can take care of myself."

"Obviously not," she heard him mutter. She wheeled around quickly, her eyes narrowed.

"Obviously," she hissed, "I already have." His eyes narrowed as well and he scowled at her.

"Watch it, Emma," he growled. "Remember, we don't have to keep you here—"

"You do if you want the Rebellion," she retorted quickly, remembering just how angry Dorjan would be if her stubborn mind and hot temper ruined all his plans. "They trust me even more, now. They're telling me more."

"Who's telling you more?" It was clearly a challenge thrown at her, hinting at the distrust he had for her.

"Not Cage, obviously," she answered quickly, biting her lip at the thought of him. "Pierce fills me in after Cage talks to him and Max." She felt his eyes boring into her, as if trying to see the lies on her face. After a long moment with only the dripping sink providing noise, he crossed his arms.

"You need to watch your mouth, Emma," he growled, still scowling. "And you need to bring me more information, since they tell you more now. We'll keep a better eye on you. Go to Manhattan tomorrow."

_Shit._ Emmaline knew she would be watched until she was across the bridge. There was not a less welcoming part of the city for her than Manhattan. Knowing she couldn't refuse, she nodded. Still scowling, Spot traipsed out of the bunkroom to leave her to her thoughts.

Muttering to herself, she went to her bunk and grabbed a book from underneath her mattress. Tearing a piece of paper out, she quickly scrawled a message on it and went out to the fire escape. Hoping her suspicions about Dorjan's paranoia were right, she put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. She held her breath as she listened to the normal night noises around her. Sighing, she turned to go back inside, stopping suddenly when she heard a low whistle down below her. She let go of the folded paper over the edge of the fire escape, not walking back inside until she heard the quiet footsteps walking away from the building.

"I don't completely trust her," Spot stated, leaning against the wall in his room, looking down at Dragon and Alex. At Dragon's scoff, he glared. It was not often he called his head informant and head guard together for a meeting, but he figured it was necessary. "The point is, keep an eye on her. She is going to Manhattan tomorrow and I want to make sure she gets there. Once she is over the bridge, there are other things to keep her in place. It's your job," he continued pointedly to Alex, "to make sure we know she goes."

"It's done." Alex moved to get out of his chair and glanced at Spot. Getting a nod, he rose and left the room.

"What did I tell you?" Dragon murmured as the door clicked shut. "The less we find the more there is hiding. Why the sudden surveillance on someone who is, by your words, just a girl?"

"Shut up, Drag," Spot muttered, glaring at his friend. "I just want to make sure she's doing what she's supposed to."

"Why not get Cowboy's kids to keep a lookout, too?" A silence followed Dragon's words as Spot's gaze fell to the floor.

"I don't want to ask, seeing what happened over there recently." Dragon frowned, but nodded. It had not hit the Brooklyn newsies as hard as the Manhattan newsies, but Skittery's death had shocked everyone.

* * *

Walking across the Brooklyn bridge was more silence than Emmaline was used to. The water below was her only company as she trekked to Manhattan. Rome had obnoxiously followed her until she was at the middle of the bridge, and she could feel his eyes watching her long after. Crossing into Manhattan, she headed away from the river.

"Fancy meeting you here." She smiled softly as she saw Hades waiting for her. He took a drag off his cigarette and tossed it to the ground. "Manhattan, huh?" he scoffed, looking around. "How are we going to waste a day in a place this dull?"

"As quietly and privately as possible, I'd imagine," Emmaline sighed. "Come on, I don't want to be anywhere near South Street." He walked along beside her, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

For the most part the day went as quietly as it could. The pair wandered around the city and finally settled themselves on a bench in a rather quiet park, a little past mid-day. They sat in silence, watching the few people walking past them.

"Penny for a pape, miss?" A small voice broke them from their silent staring. Standing before them was a young man, his light blonde hair sticking out from under his hat. Hades looked at him, as if sizing him up, and then shifted his gaze back down the path, apparently finding him harmless.

"Sure," Emmaline murmured, digging into her pocket for a penny.

"Beat it, street trash," a voice behind them growled. Emmaline saw the boy take step back, and she turned to see who had spoken. Her eyes locked with the girl's and they both stared at each other for a long moment. There was something familiar about her but Emmaline couldn't place it.

"You," the girl gasped, taking a stop back. That was all it took, and Emmaline knew where she had seen her before. She quickly stood to face her.

"Em," Hades warned, rising beside her as well.

"It's fine," she murmured, not looking away from the other girl. "Just some Rebellion whore."

"Tanya!" a voice down the path called. Hades glanced down, seeing Pierce coming toward them. The blonde newsie took off running at the sight of him, leaving the four behind. "What are you doing?"

"She killed Kate!" Tanya exclaimed, her voice growing higher in pitch. "I saw her, I know it was her!" Beside her, Emmaline saw Hades draw his hand out of his pocket, most assuredly with his knife in it. Pierce stopped on the path, only a few feet from them.

"One of Dorjan's bitches, then?" he drawled, taking a few steps forwards and grabbing her arm. Almost immediately, Hades shoved the taller boy away from her. His left fist connected with Pierce's jaw, making him take a step back. Tanya moved to go to him but Emmaline jumped over the bench and pushed her back.

Tanya was not a girl who was inclined to fight before trying to outwit her opponent. Rather, she generally tried to fight with words first. Considering it was her brother Hades was currently threatening with a knife, she was throwing intellectual banter to the wind. It was unfortunate for her, however, that Emmaline always believe actions spoke louder than words, and was taught to dispose of her opponents.

When Tanya threw herself toward Emmaline, fists bared, she was met with a disdainful sneer and a kick to the stomach that knocked her to the ground. A glimpse at the boys told her Hades was not going to fair well. Pierce was taller, stronger, and angrier. Hades was good at his job, but not the best when it came to fighting someone hand-to-hand. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a piston, grateful to have followed Dorjan's instructions.

"I will give you," she yelled at Pierce, pointing the gun at Tanya, "to the count of three!" Both of the boys froze, Pierce with a look of horror on his face and Hades with a malicious grin.

"One." Pierce stayed frozen, staring at the gun in her hand.

"Two." She cocked the piston and Pierce took two unsteady steps away from Hades. Tanya watched her brother, breathing shakily.

"Three." The shot rang out through the park; both Pierce and Hades lunged forward. Hades caught his foe around the waist and took him to the ground, slamming him into it hard enough to be disorienting before getting to his feet quickly and holding his hand out to Emmaline. She pocketed her pistol and the pair left the park posthaste.

"We've got to go through Queens," Emmaline ordered quietly as they walked up the street. "They'll be watching the bridge for me." Hades nodded, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. The pair walked the rest of the way in silence, crossing the river into Queens and going down to Brooklyn, separating long before they reached the border.

* * *

"Cage, we've got a problem," Cynic stated quietly as he pushed the door to his leader's room open. Cage looked over from his chair, an eyebrow raised. As Cynic was usually frowning and looking contemplative, it was hard to tell what could possible be wrong and how bad it was. "It's Tanya."

"Look, I know she doesn't want to go for Brooklyn because of the Coyo—" Cage began, but was cut off by the other boy.

"It's not that, Cynic interrupted, stepping into the room and shutting the door. "That won't even matter anymore." He paused, glancing away from Cage. "She's dead, Cage. Shot in the park."

Cage was up out of his chair so fast it was as if he had sat on spikes, and he had nothing but questions. "Who did it? What park? Where is she? Pierce?" His last inquiry was softer than the others. Despite Pierce's distain for him, he cared for all of his own and knew it was going to be hard on him. Tanya was the one person Pierce ever talked to about anything. Plus, the last thing he needed was for one of his top men to be out of commission while they were preparing to wage war on the borough across the river. "Where is Pierce?"

"At the bar," Cynic replied quietly, folding his arms. Cage left his room and the building without another word, walking through the crowd of whispers before hitting the street.

There was a bar the leadership of the Rebellion liked to frequent, a shady dive that didn't ask questions and provided enough noise to keep them from being overheard. Cage walked into the bar, glancing around to find Pierce. He was easy to spot, his tall frame looming over the bar, even as he was sitting. Settling onto a stool beside him, Cage looked over at him.

"Shut up," Pierce muttered, not looking over at him and just taking another drink.

"Didn't say anything," Cage bristled, ordering himself a drink.

"Then don't start," Pierce snapped as he looked over, his eyes bloodshot and narrowed. "I don't want to deal with you right now."

"Well I don't want you to drink yourself into uselessness," Cage growled. "We need you too much for that to happen." Pierce laughed hoarsely, harshly, and shoved Cage off his stool, rising from his own and towering over him.

"Always the same with you isn't it?" he said bitingly, as Cage eyes the glasses lined up on the bar. He knew if Pierce were sober he wouldn't be nearly as bad. "So what, your sister was murdered in front of you, as long as you can throw a punch for us."

"Pierce, I didn't mean," Cage started, but knew he really had. He quickly switched thoughts. "Who was it, do you know?"

"Tanya," he looked away, swallowing hard. "Tanya said it was the girl who got Kate. There was a boy with her, too."

"Coyotes," hissed Cage, and Pierce nodded, grabbing his drink and finishing it off before signaling for another. "I want descriptions of them; I won't stand for them being in Manhattan."

"The girl," Pierce began, grabbing his drink off the bar, "had long hair. Dark. She didn't look like much trouble." He paused and threw the liquor into his mouth all at once. Cage eyed him warily but didn't comment, knowing he probably didn't want to reminisce about his sister's killer. "The boy was taller, had black hair that looked like he hadn't brushed it in weeks, real pale, but not that big. Lanky."

Cage nodded and moved to leave, but Pierce grabbed his arm. "We have to get her, Cage." His voice shook as he tried to restrain the wild emotion running through him. "We have to get her, and I want her."

"Don't worry, we will," Cage affirmed. Pierce just turned back to the bartender, releasing his arm. Cage quietly left the bar, knowing he just wanted to be left alone.

As he walked back into the house he was accosted by a smaller girl whose braids whipped along behind her as she collided with him. "Is it true?" she demanded, staring up at him fiercely.

"Is what true?" he growled, removing her hands from his arms.

"They say Tanya's dead." He pushed past her, headed toward his room. "Cage!"

"Pipi, not now," Cage snapped, his eyes narrowing at her as he glanced back. "Tanya's dead, alright? Not like you really care, you weren't her friend—"

"How could I be? She didn't like anyone," Pipi muttered, stopping at the look he gave her.

"As I was saying," he growled, "she's gone, nothing we can do about it, and if you would kindly keep your thoughts about her away from Pierce, that would be for the best." He once again turned to walk from her, making it a few more steps before she spoke.

"Who did it?" she questioned softly, not looking up at him. "Do we know?"

"Some coyote, but keep it quiet," he muttered, not facing her. "I don't want anyone going out and getting themselves killed trying to get revenge. We'll save that for when we take Brooklyn." Pipi didn't interrupt his exit again, just watching him leave.

* * *

There were people waiting, when Emmaline entered the lodging house. Stepping into the lobby, the ever following eyes of Dragon met hers. He was not the only one. Alex was leaned back against the wall and between the two of them was Spot.

"How was your day, poppet?" Dragon questioned softly, a smirk adorning his face. The withering glance Emmaline gave him was not the only look of distain send his way, as Spot sent him a silencing glance.

"Anything noteworthy?" Spot asked, turning back to her. She shrugged, pausing for a moment before shaking her head.

"Why'd you come back through Queens?" It was Alex's turn to ask her questions and once again, she shrugged.

"I was up there toward the end of the day," she answered. "I didn't feel like walking all the way back down Manhattan. They might've stopped me from coming back." Dragon continued to eye her suspiciously. "I didn't want to stay there. You don't know what they're like."

"Did you know her?" Dragon asked softly. Emmaline blinked confusedly, and then frowned.

"Who?"

"The girl who died." Dragon's gaze was fixed on her as he spoke and her breath caught in her throat. How could they know about that, and so quickly? That would explain why they had all been waiting for her. She shook her head, looking down to the floor.

"Tanya?" she asked, recalling the name from when that boy had yelled it. "No, I didn't really. I'd barely ever seen her." She bit her lip, looking back up at them. "I don't really want to talk about it, everyone was really upset."

"Do they know who did it?" Spot asked, folding his arms. "Don't want the wrong people getting blamed or anything like that." She considered him a moment before responding.

"They've got a rough idea, I think," she murmured, frowning. "I just really don't want to talk about this." Alex nudged Spot, as if prodding him to let it go for the time being. After a long moment, Spot nodded and she went upstairs to the bunkroom, breathing easier.

"Good thing Magpie was across the river today," Spot muttered, looking over at Dragon. "Keep her there, if you can. We need eyes and ears since we can't use Jack's."

"Good thing Dutchy found her and told her," Dragon said, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. "We could probably spare her, for now, in Brooklyn. And we do need out own watch in Manhattan, until this is over. I still don't trust Emmaline."

"Don't worry so much, Dragon," Spot responded with a scowl. "It'll all come together, and we're going to get them."


	5. Chapter 4

"Oh, you wouldn't believe the day I had," Hades laughed as he sat beside Celia, having just entered the house. She looked over at him curiously.

"I suppose that's my cue to ask you about it?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Okay, I'll bite. What happened?"

"Emma and I had to spend the day in Manhattan," he began, pausing at the look of outrage on her face. "I know it's a horrible way to spend the day. Anyway, we were just sitting in this park, no one around, and this kid tried to sell us a paper."

"This better get exciting soon," Celia sighed with a faux yawn. "Because so far…"

"Hush, I'm getting there," Hades interrupted. "I have to set the scene, alright? So this kid came up, and Emma was going to buy one to help pass the time, then this girl came up behind us and started yelling at the kid."

"Oh God," Celia muttered. "Please tell me Emma didn't pick a fight with her for it." Hades shook his head, grinning wider.

"So much better than that, Celia," he crowed, running his hand through his unruly hair. "Turns out this girl was a member of the Rebellion. Some huge idiot from the Rebellion came up, too, and tried to get Emma."

"That explains your shiner," Celia mused. "How very noble of you."

"Apparently," Hades continued, ignoring her comments, "the girl recognized Emma from before when we were picking them off. But yeah, so, the guy and I had a little bit of a scuffle, then Emma –"

"Did what Emma does best?" Celia finished cheerfully, smirking.

"For God's sake, Celia, _I'm _the one telling the story here!" Hades yelled, irritated. "But yes, she did. Should've seen his face. That guy will be out of it for a while." He looked over at her, his smirk matching hers. "That girl with a gun…"

"Does Dorjan know?" she asked suddenly, looking toward the door.

"Not unless he heard it from someone else," Hades answered, shaking his head. "Em and I split when we got to Brooklyn but I doubt she would have come here. She's smarter than that."

"Well, Dor has a way of finding things out before he's told so be careful," she warned, rising from her seat.

"Oh like he'll care, it was helpful," Hades scoffed. She just smirked at him, shaking her head as she walked away.

* * *

Early the next day, Cage held a meeting with his inner circle, minus Pierce. They all knew what had happened, but that did not make it easier to decide the next step.

"After this thing with Brooklyn is done, we have another task to do," Cage ordered, staring down at Cards and Max. "Those damn coyotes have got to go! I don't know how, but it has to happen."

"How's Pierce?" Cards asked gruffly.

"How would you be if Cats got shot dead in front of you?" Cage snapped, watching as Cards clenched his fists on the table. "He's doing as well as can be expected and that's that. We don't need to worry about him right now."

"If he's just going to drink himself into nothingness, we need to worry," Cards muttered, adding a few choice words under his breath.

"The point is," Cage continued, ignoring the mutterings across the table, "we need to have everyone at their best." Max cracked his knuckles wordlessly, looking at the vacant seat where Pierce usually sat. "Don't get distracted. I need you two making sure everyone else is ready."

"Is that all?" Cards asked after a moment of silence. "I have a game to get to." There was a reason he was known as Cards – the same reason he had a card stuck in his bowler. Cage scowled at him, but nodded.

The three left the room quietly, dispersing throughout the house. Cards had barely made it two steps before he was accosted by Cats, her arms slipping around his waist. He kissed her for a moment before pulling away. "I have to go."

"What?" she objected, her smile quickly turning to a scowl.

"I've got a game to get to," he mumbled, glancing away.

"Going to gamble away everything again, are you?" Cats spat sarcastically.

"I don't have any time for this right now, Cats," Cards replied bitingly, his temper rising. "I have to go or I'm going to be goddamn late!" His eyes locked with Cats, whose eyes narrowed at him. They stood in a long moment of silence, defiantly glaring at each other. Finally, he broke the silence. "I have to go."

"Where are you going?" Cats questioned, crossing her arms as he opened the door to leave. He turned to look at her, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Brooklyn."

"You can't do that!" Cats exclaimed, grabbing his arm. "Not now! Not with everything that's happened."

"I have to go to my game," Cards repeated casually. He leaned in and kissed her full on the mouth before turning again and heading out the door.

* * *

"Heard you had a bit of fun in Manhattan," Dorjan stated casually, watching Emmaline come into his room.

"So what if I did?" she said, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"While I appreciate the dedication," he chastised dryly, "you're getting careless. You were supposed to go to Manhattan and lay low for a couple of hours. I don't recall the itinerary including you shooting someone and Hades getting his ass kicked."

"Oy!" Hades protested from the hall.

"Dorjan, please," Emmaline said, rolling her eyes. "At worst, it helped us. How is it any worse than what we'd been doing before?"

"Think with your brain for once, not with your trigger finger," Dorjan snapped. "They know you now, Em! They know what you look like. You think they're going to just forget about that girl? They're especially not going to forget about her killer. That boy saw you – he knows you're a Coyote, yeah? They're going to have everyone out looking for you."

"So no more day trips to Manhattan," Emmaline dead-panned with a shrug. "Suits me just fine, I don't much like it over there."

"You're a cold-hearted bitch," Dorjan growled.

"Last time I checked, that's what you liked best about me," Emmaline retorted, crossing her arms with a frown.

"You're not a very smart one lately, though," he continued, staring at her intently. "Something like this, I can see them coming over here."

"They wouldn't dare," she snarled, but he held up a hand to silence her.

"If you saw someone from the Rebellion, who you knew was in the Rebellion, kill Celia, would you just look for them in Brooklyn?" Dorjan questioned, exasperation showing on his face. "No. It's not where they normally are. So why should they only look for you in Manhattan? They know what you and Hades look like, that means both of you have to lay low for a while which makes everything much harder."

"Dramatic much?" Emmaline muttered. "I'm sorry already. Not really, but I'm sorry you think it's such a big deal."

"It is—"

"I can take care of myself," she cut in shortly, her frown deepening. "You know I can. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

"Everything hinges on you!" Dorjan yelled, grabbing her arm. "You don't understand that. I chose you because I thought you could handle it. I knew you could work your way into Spot Conlon's little world, probably better than I'd like, get him to listen to you, and play front man for the Rebellion. I know you're good enough to do all these things, Emma, but I thought you'd be able to lay off for a few weeks!"

"You," Emmaline whispered angrily, "are the person who told me not to go anywhere unarmed. That girl recognized me, provoked me, and when that boy came and was overpowering Hades, I had to do something. You know I had to."

"All I'm saying," Dorjan continued through clenched teeth, "is that you've seriously jeopardized everything."

"I know, but I saw no alternative," she retorted.

"Whatever you do now, don't put your position in the newsies at risk," Dorjan ordered. "I don't care what you have to do, just don't lose us that connection. Otherwise we're going through all this for nothing."

"Got the point already, Dor," she snapped. "Are we done now?"

"Yeah, we're done." She turned and left his room, quickly making her way down the hall. It was later than she had expected and it was long since time for her to be back at the lodging house.

On her way back to the lodging house, her mind was whirring with thoughts. Despite her frequent annoyance with him, she could not help but respect Spot as a leader. He cared for his newsies more than he would openly admit, but she could see it in the way he defended them. She knew he would not be taking them to fight with the Rebellion if he did not think it would be worth it or have a favorable outcome. The way he had talked about the wrong people being blamed for that girl's death, Emmaline knew he would kill her, or at least try, if he knew the truth and they went after any of his boys or girls.

What she found most interesting was comparing Spot to Dorjan. Two completely different personalities, yet they were a lot alike. Both had egos as big as the sun but at the same time were extremely protective of their makeshift families. She almost laughed when she thought of what Dorjan would say if he knew she was comparing him, king of underworld society, to the pawn he had chosen for his grandest plan of all. She just shook her head as she walked into the lodging house.

"You're back awfully late," Dragon drawled from his seat on the staircase, his cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"I didn't realize I had a curfew," Emmaline muttered, walking up the stairs. As she passed, he grabbed her ankle and looked up at her.

"It's no secret I don't trust you, Emma," he started quietly, his grip tightening as he raised his eyes to hers. "Apparently that doesn't matter because Conlon does, so good on you for getting to him. But _when_you prove I'm right, believe that you'll regret it. If you hurt him in the process, even worse. That's my best friend you've hoodwinked, so if anything happens to him you'll answer to me."

"Are we done?" she asked coldly, folding her arms over her chest as she stood otherwise motionless on the steps. He just glared up at her as he released her ankle.

After waiting for her to disappear into the bunkroom, Dragon stood and made his way down the stairs into the kitchen. Two pairs of eyes met his as the door swung shut. "Reuben, Beth," he greeted with a nod, motioning toward the table.

Bethany closed the book in her hands as she moved to sit down. Dragon was glad to see her set it on the table, as she had occasionally taken to reading through his talks in the past. The quietest of his group of informants, Bethany was the one with a great inside track. Having left her to her own devices for so long, Dragon had forgotten about her connection. He studied her as she pushed her glasses to the top of her head, using them to hold her unruly dark red hair out of her eyes.

"You, uh, still see that Flynn from time to time?" Dragon asked gently, looking down at her. Bethany's eyes flitted up to his quickly and she nodded.

"Every so often," she answered, folding her hands on top of the table. Flynn had been her secret for so long. He was an Irish cop who was sweet on her and knew how to keep her around - by bringing her a book every now and again. Truth was, she saw him two or three times a week, but she didn't want the boys to know how much of a façade she was maintaining. "Why?"

"I want you to find out if he knows anything about Emmaline," Dragon ordered calmly. With Bethany, he always tried to be as nice as he could, as she was not the typical girl found in these circumstances.

"Didn't we already try that?" she asked, biting her lip. "We couldn't find anything.'

"Well, let's try again but without using her last name," Dragon mused. "I doubt she'd drop her real full name with us, as suspicious as she is. Emmaline isn't that common of a name."

"Does Spot know about this?" Reuben interrupted, leaning back in his chair. "He might not like us going after her like this."

"He told me to look for something if I was suspicious, so I am."

"Yeah, but that was weeks ago, Dragon," Reuben continued nervously. "Now he might not be too keen -"

"I'm still suspicious, Reuben," Dragon snapped. He sighed and glanced away from the other boy. "Beth, you're free to go. Whenever you see Flynn next, see what you can dig up." The small girl rose from the table and quickly left the room.

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you," Reuben muttered as the door closed.

"What?"

"That night you had me follow her, after she got that letter," Reuben began, "I didn't think anything of it at the time. She went a way with the guy who brought the letter but when she went into this bar he kept going. I saw her go into a back room when I went in but there was a guy at the door - he wouldn't let me in. Didn't really know what to make of it, but there it was." Dragon's eyes bore into him, clearly indicating he should get to the point. "Two nights later I was in the bunkroom and she came in through the fire escape, blood all over her hands. I tried to stop her, to see what had happened, but she went into the washroom, so I went and got Spot. The thing is, she didn't look hurt. I saw her hands real close and there weren't any cuts or anything." He waited, watching Dragon anxiously.

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" Dragon asked, rubbing his temples. "When it happened, maybe? That would have been a good time to tell me."

"Spot didn't make a big deal out of it, so I figured-"

"Of course Spot didn't make a big deal out of it," Dragon exploded. "He thinks she's the moon and the stars with her 'giving us the Rebellion' and all that. All she'd have to do is bat those big brown eyes at him and he'd do anything she said. He wouldn't say anything about her because she's pretty," he continued scathingly, "and she's hand delivering this to him." Reuben moved to get up from his chair. "Yes, go. And find out anything you can. I'm tired of this girl running the show around here."

* * *

It was two days before Bethany came back to Dragon, looking more pulled together than usual. Whereas she usually had at least one book, she just held a sheet of paper that was heavily scribbled upon. He watched her as she came toward him and motioned for her to go into the kitchen. "Found something, I take it?"

"It's not much," she offered apologetically. "We looked through everything. Flynn looked, rather, I just took some notes. He didn't want to break the rules completely and I'm really not supposed to see any of those things –" she broke off as he cleared his throat, pushing her to get to the point. "Anyway, there wasn't much to find. Emmaline is not that common of a name, like you said. The only thing we found was a missing persons report from several years back." She glanced down at the paper in her hand, scanning it for the place where she'd written about it. "Yes. Emmaline Starkey, age thirteen. Her parents reported her missing but nothing was ever found out about her and her parents didn't push her absence once there was no evidence after so long. Sad, really."

"Any physical description with it?" Dragon questioned, looking at the paper she was holding. She shrugged and flipped the paper over.

"Just really vague descriptors – medium height, brown hair, and brown eyes, nothing special listed," she murmured, shaking her head. "That was when she was thirteen, who knows what she looks like now. I'm sorry. This wasn't much help."

"Thanks, Beth," he said quietly. "I appreciate you looking into it. I didn't expect there to be much, but what you found is good to know." She nodded and watched him for a few seconds more before slipping out of the room quietly. He sat in silence, mulling over what she had told him, before going out to lobby and finding Reuben.

"What now?" Reuben asked lazily, leaning against the wall.

"Tomorrow, go to Manhattan and tell Magpie to linger around South Street," Dragon ordered. "Tell her to come to me the moment she hears anything suspicious. I want to know about it right away." Reuben sighed, but nodded. "What?"

"I still don't think we should be going behind Spot's back about this stuff," Reuben stated quietly, folding his arms. "If you're so sure about it, why aren't you telling him what you're doing? Having Beth go to that cop of hers again, he'd probably not like that very much."

"Mind your own business, Reuben," Dragon muttered, frowning. "This is important, and you just need to do what you're told right now. Go tell Magpie, and then come back. She knows what she's doing." Reuben just nodded again and went up the stairs to the bunkroom, away from the narrowed eyes of his superior. It was good of him to be worried about what their leader would say, but Dragon was sure there was something not right with the girl they had taken in. He was determined to find what that was, and at any cost.


	6. Chapter 5

Emmaline was amazed Spot hadn't figured anything out yet, and her respect for him as a leader made her irritated with out much she was deceiving him. It wasn't the deception that bothered her, it was the potential of so many problems when it came to the impending meeting with the Rebellion. The one place she felt Dorjan had misjudged was with Spot. While he had been able to predict Spot's actions at the beginning she knew he hadn't even imagined what would happen if Spot knew. All he had said was not to let him find out, but when the alternative was nothing happening it came down to Emmaline to make the decision.

If Spot knew it would make it easier – less of a façade to maintain and much less questioning. She had to keep it in her control, though, and have him find out in such a way that she did not just tell him. She couldn't lie to Dorjan, so she couldn't just let it slip. If he figured it out on his own, though, how was she supposed to stop that? He had to know, but she had to control it. With Dragon watching her every move, she needed to make it private.

"Emmaline, get in here," Spot ordered as she walked past his door. She quietly obeyed and shut the door behind her. He stared at her for a long moment before speaking. "We're putting off the meeting with the Rebellion."

"What?"

"So many things have been happening, it might not be a good time for this," Spot continued.

"Oh, stop being a coward," Emmaline snapped before she could stop herself. "There will never be a perfect time; you might as well go while the getting's good. It's as good as it'll get, probably."

"Emma," Spot growled, his hand tightening on his cane.

"I'm sorry, I just don't understand why you wouldn't go after them," she continued edgily. "How often do you get this kind of information? Even if you don't want to go for them, they're coming for you – or are you forgetting that one small detail? You can't make them decide to hold off because the time isn't right – if anything, that would encourage them!"

"You tell them to hold off, then," he ordered, crossing his arms.

"Oh yes, because they'll certainly listen to me," she shot back. "What's their motivation? Having you right where they want you, and you wanted to just roll over and let them at it? Brilliant plan, Spot." He stared at her, matching her narrowed eyes with his as she breathed heavily, anger pulsing through her veins. Had she really gone to all this trouble just so the so-called leader of Brooklyn could bail out? If he knew the truth, she new he would reconsider.

"Emma—"

"Are you ready for the Rebellion or not?" Emma demanded hotly, her eyes locked on Spot's, watching them narrow with anger even more.

"What makes you think you can tell me what I should be doing?" he asked, his tone cold. "Why do you think you can say what my boys should be doing?"

"You're not, I figured someone should," she shot back before she could stop herself. Her thoughts flew to Dorjan and how she knew what would happen if anyone used that tone with him, or said those words to him. She was glad to remember the significant difference between the two, though she could see she had severely stepped over the line.

"You're on thin ice here, Emmy," came his steely reply, his voice laced with anger.

"Don't call me—"

"You're here by my good graces and what do you do to show your gratitude?" He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. "What, _**Emmy**_?"

"_Don't!_" Rage shone through in her eyes as she pulled her wrist from him, shoving him away. A low growl resonated in his throat as he lunged for her. With a sickening thud they both hit the floor, Emmaline wriggling to get away and Spot struggling to hold her down. They struggled against each other fiercely before Emmaline realized her opportunity. It hadn't been often that she had used her wiles to get her way with a job, but this was a situation where it would work. From those few encounters, she was certain that he would not question what was happening. He was a young man, after all, and she had never heard of a young man who would turn down what she was offering. She stopped struggling against him and instead grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down to her. He froze in shock at first, when her lips met his, but other than the initial surprise he seemed to have no reservations about it at all. Their struggling against each other quickly turned into fighting to be closer to each other as they tumbled through the night.

Laying there in his dark room, Spot turned his gaze upon the girl next to him. He ran his fingertips along Emmaline's back, tracing along the ridges of her spine. As he brushed her hair out of the way, his eyes were drawn to her shoulder blade, more specifically, to what was on her shoulder blade. He recoiled as if he had been burnt and scrambled to get out of bed – away from her.

"You're a coyote!" His frantic yelp was followed by silence as he stared at her, for on her shoulder blade, standing out against her fair skin, were several black marks topped with the outline of a coyote's head. "A fucking coyote!"

By the second exclamation, she had rolled over to face him, pulling the sheet up to cover herself. Her dark eyes stared into his light ones, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Very good, Brooklyn," she finally stated quietly. "Why don't you shout it again? I'm sure there are people in the Bronx who didn't hear you the first few times."

"What do those lines mean?" His voice betrayed his fear, but he had his reasons for being afraid. For weeks now, he had been in company with a possible murderer and now he was yelling at her. _How fast could she kill him?_ he wondered_. And how many had she already done in?_

"Ranking system," she stated, not taking her eyes off him as she stood up. "Relax. If I wanted to kill you, you wouldn't have gotten past the first time you yelled at me."

"So you do kill."

"Of course I do." Spot had been in his fair share of brawls. He had seen many people go down, never to come back up. He had never killed someone, nor had he ever known someone to talk about it as nonchalantly as the girl standing before him wrapped in his bed sheets.

"Stop thinking of me like that, it'll help," she offered, a smirk twitching at the corners of her mouth.

"What the hell am I supposed to think, then? Apparently I know nothing about you at all!"

"I'll tell you about it," she volunteered. He stared at her a long moment before responding.

"About what?"

"The House," she said, leaning against the wall. It was rare to get such an opportunity, she hoped he understood that. She would not give him all the information in the world, but she was willing to give him enough to tide him over.

"Okay," he replied, thinking over his questions while keeping his eyes on her. "I want to know how it all got started, and how you got stuck in it."

"First of all, I never said I got stuck," Emmaline snapped, her temper flaring as she thought of all her comrades and her relationships with them. "That is my family you're talking about and I refuse to hear anyone say I was 'stuck' with them."

"Alright, fine, I take it back," Spot responded, holding his hands in front of him.

"Nothing I tell you leaves this room," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. "Especially not to Dragon and his group. If I'm going to be honest, here, I need your word you won't tell anyone."

"I swear on all of Brooklyn," Spot stated with a nod. Emmaline eyed him, waiting for him to break into a smirk, but when he didn't she sighed.

"The House has been around for a long time," she started, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "No one really knows how it started because no one who is currently in it was around in the beginning. As members grow older, new faces come in."

"How do you join?"

"You don't join," she answered quickly. "You're chosen."

"How old were you?"

"Thirteen, I think." She shrugged as she thought about it. "Yes, thirteen." He stared at her for a long moment before his next question.

"What about your family and everything?"

"My family was simple enough, I guess," she said with a frown. "I had parents just like everyone else. They wanted me to be the perfect daughter, and it didn't happen. My brother was younger and constantly got picked on by all the other kids his age. He was too little to stick up for himself so I stuck up for him, and that's how I got in trouble. My parents didn't like their little girl getting into fistfights with the neighborhood kids. One day, someone came up to me who didn't mind me not being a perfect girl. My parents had made it perfectly clear by that point that if I didn't start behaving they were going to send me to my aunt and uncle's house in the county. I didn't want to go, they didn't want me, and this other person did and didn't mind me picking fights. So I went."

"Who came and got you?"

"The boy who ended up being in charge of it all," she responded, a smile flitting across her face briefly. "He saw me fighting with this kid one day and came up to me after it was all done. He said I would fit in will with his family, and he wanted me to come and meet them. Once I did, I didn't want to leave."

"So you started, um, killing people when you were thirteen?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course not," she laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. They start the younger ones off at pick-pocketing and you work your way up to the top."

"How many of you are there?"

"Not that many," she said with a shrug. "If we had a lot, wouldn't it be easy to find us? We have just the right amount, and each with their strengths. I couldn't tell you the last time we were all together in the same place, though."

"Who's in charge?" he questioned, looking over at her. She frowned as she thought over how to answer.

"I can't tell you that, Spot," she finally murmured.

"Why are you here?" he demanded, a bit put out at her refusal from his last question. "That should have been my first question, actually, so I really want to know."

"That one's simple," she answered quickly. "You hate the Rebellion and so do we. The problem is, there are only so many of us that it doesn't make sense for us to go into a fight with them alone. You have the numbers, strength, and hatred for them that makes you and your newsies a perfect choice. You were never going to be fighting them alone, you know. We would have been there."

"So they were never coming for us?" Spot questioned, anger rising in him now. He was not some pawn for an unknown person to play with and he detested the idea he had been used as one.

"Yes they were, and are," she replied calmly. "That wasn't a lie. They are coming, and soon. It's just that now you know that you have some extra help on your side."

"I want to meet him," he ordered, his fear of her fading as he became angrier. "This leader. I want to meet him. He decided he could use us; he should at least have the decency to meet with me and talk about it. You'll set up a meeting for us."

"Oh, I'm not sure if that's the best idea," she muttered, biting her lip. "You do realize what he's capable of, right?"

"Set up a meeting," he demanded again. "Tomorrow night. I don't care where, but I want to meet him." He was regretting his demands almost immediately after he made them, but he wanted to meet this unnamed figure who was running his newsies from afar.

* * *

Magpie sprinted across the bridge, pausing midway to catch her breath before resuming her race to get to Dragon. She hoped he was at the lodging house because if he wasn't she didn't know how long she could contain her news before she burst and told everyone she could find. She was under strict orders to report to Dragon first but she was so excited she just hoped she could make it to the house. The hot afternoon sun was beating down on her as she ran down the street, rounding the last corner. If he wasn't in the house, she didn't know how much more she could run to find him.

Much to her chagrin he was not sitting on the steps to the house, as he often was around that time of day. He was, however, lazily descending the staircase inside when she burst through the door. Glancing down at her, he raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"I have new," she blurted out, hunching over with her hands on her knees as she breathed heavily, trying to recover from her run. "About that girl."

"Kitchen," Dragon ordered and she gladly obliged, sliding into a chair once she was inside. He sat across from her and leaned across the table. "Now, what is it?"

"I was down toward South Street today," Magpie began, running her fingers through her hair, "and I overheard people talking. There were a bunch of them and they were as tall as trees, with these massive arms, and—" Dragon gave her a pointed look and she bit her lip. "Well, they were big, anyway. They were talking about the girl who got killed in the park. They said there was blood all over and how she was barely recognizable."

"Magpie, we know that already," Dragon cut in with an exasperated sigh. "Please tell me you ran over here for more than that."

"Of course," Magpie said with a grown, looking irritated by the interruption of her story. "They said what the girl looked like."

"Why would I care what the dead girl looked like?"

"Not the dead girl," she continued, looking proud of the information she had gathered. "The girl who killed her." Dragon sat up quickly and stared at her.

"She got killed by a girl?" he questioned, standing and beginning to pace around the kitchen.

"Yeah," Magpie continued. "A vicious killer, according to them. They said she had no reason to do what she did."

"What did she look like, Magpie?"

"Eyes as dark as her soul, and –"

"Straight facts," he barked at her.

"Fine," she muttered, crossing her arms. "Dark hair, dark eyes - like I said, and kinda tall. Said she was responsible for killing another one of their people a while back, too."

"They'd know her if they saw her, right?" Dragon asked, excitement ringing through in his voice. Magpie shrugged.

"I guess," she sighed. "Dutchy would, too. He just couldn't remember because he was so shaken up." She stared up at Dragon for a long moment before speaking again. "You know, I would appreciate it if you were a little nicer when I come to you with news. You've never even explained to me _why _I'm in Manhattan. I'm just told to hang around South Street, one of the last places I want to be, and live in a house with all those boys who aren't ever in a good mood!"

"Christ, have you even met her?" Dragon exclaimed, looking at her incredulously. Magpie just stared at him blankly. "Emmaline, Magpie. Have you met her?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, so no," she replied haughtily.

"This girl Spot took in, playing a double agent from the Rebellion," he explained quickly. "I've been suspicious about her from the beginning, but Spot wouldn't hear of it. You just described what she looks like."

"That doesn't make sense," Magpie said slowly, processing what he'd said. "Why would someone from the Rebellion kill one of their own? And there was a witness, too. There's no way she's from the Rebellion, if they're the same person." She stared up at him, biting her lip.

"There's still something not right," Dragon started, stopping abruptly as Magpie leapt up from her chair.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her expression triumphant. "I forgot... I don't know how... most important part..."

"Spit it out!" Dragon snapped at her. She stopped and looked up at him, her eyes wide.

"The girl who killed her," she continued quietly, "is a Coyote."

"You get Dutchy," he ordered quietly, "and bring him here tomorrow. I want both of you to see her, and I want to know for sure. I can't go and tell Spot and be wrong, especially about something so big. Get him, bring him, and we'll figure this out."

* * *

Emmaline scowled as she sat waiting, sipping from a glass and ignoring the bartender's glances. This had not been her idea, she did not endorse it, but when she thought about it she knew it had to happen. Spot had not been thrilled, finding out he was a pawn, and wanted to regain some control. Demanding a meeting with Dorjan had been a bit overdramatic, especially since he had no idea who Dorjan was. She had considered asking Hades or Ace to sit in for him but with his way of doing things, they didn't know enough. It had to be him.

"This better be good, Emma," his deep growl came from beside her as he slid onto a stool. It had been easy to get him there. She had merely sent a note with Ace, saying she needed to meet him. If she had said why, he never would have come. She glanced over at him and frowned even more. Dorjan was already looking worn out and nothing had happened yet.

"He found out," she said plainly. "He's kind of pissed we were using him like that and just wants to be in the loop." She braced herself for his reaction but was glad when she heard the other familiar voice cut in.

"Emma?" She turned slowly as she heard Spot's voice behind her. Dorjan breathed in sharply.

"This is out of line, Emma," Dorjan hissed. She bit her lip, looking up at Spot. Dorjan was the least public member of the Coyotes and he never liked to be trapped into meeting people face to face. It was always his choice of when and where he met anyone. She could see his fists clenched on the bar out of the corner of her eye.

"We're going to the backroom," she muttered. "Calm down, alright?" She motioned for Spot to move toward the door first and he seemed slightly hesitant about being shut in a private room with two self-proclaimed killers, despite his usual tough façade. "I told you, Spot, if I was going to kill you I would have already."

At that, Dorjan chuckled under his breath. Spot, still wary, took the lead as he and Emmaline walked to the backroom. Dorjan grabbed a drink from the bartender before following them.

A table had been set up in the room, and the three sat at it. No one spoke as Dorjan took turns glaring at the other two. He quickly downed his drink and scowled.

"How did you find out?" he demanded, his eyes focusing on Spot.

"I saw her tattoo," Spot began, stopping as Dorjan's eyes snapped to Emmaline who was deftly avoiding his gaze.

"You did, did you?" he growled, not taking his eyes away from her. Spot watched as she finally looked up, her jaw set defiantly as she stared at him.

"Yeah, I did," he said, continuing to watch her for a long moment before looking to Dorjan. "And I knew what it meant. I knew what she was."

"Easy," Emmaline murmured, watching Dorjan as he scowled even more.

"Oh, I doubt you know what she is," he muttered, "but continue."

"So I told her I knew," Spot went on, "and I wanted to know why she was doing what she was. It didn't make sense, her posing for the Rebellion with us. I wanted to know why. She told me and it made me angry, honestly." His voice grew stronger, as did his confidence, as he frowned again. "I don't like being used. I don't like my boys being used. You never thought to tell us. What if it came down to the fight and one of our guys went for one of yours because they didn't know any better?"

Dorjan laughed barkingly as he shook his head. "You think if it came down to one of my people against yours, your guy would win?"

"Expendable?" Spot demanded, clenching his fists. "That's what my boys are to you, isn't it?"

"Look," Dorjan replied, leaning over the table, the laughter gone from his face. "I don't understand why you're making such a big deal of this. You hate the Rebellion almost as much as we do. You should be thanking us for giving you such an opportunity, here, Conlon."

"You never gave us a choice," Spot shot back. "What if we didn't want to put ourselves on the line like you're asking us to do? You never gave us the choice to say no, you just mislead us into this situation we can't get out of!"

"You never had a choice," Emmaline added quietly. "I told you that, already. They're coming whether you want to deal with them or not." Dorjan watched her for a moment before turning his gaze back to Spot.

"We didn't make them come for you," Dorjan explained, his tone not as harsh as before, but growing as he spoke. "That was already in motion. Cage had made the decision to take Brooklyn out before I sent Emmaline to you. We're essentially helping you. We gave you a warning about it, and we're giving you the best back-up you could ever ask for. You're complaining about not having a choice? You never had one. We just made it easier."

"You should have told me!" Spot exploded, slamming his fists against the table. "We could have avoided all of this if you would have just swallowed your damn pride and told me what was going on!"

"You think it's pride that keeps us from telling ourselves to everyone?" Dorjan shot back, his temper flaring. "You don't think it's for our safety and well-being? This situation is exactly why we don't tell anyone, don't you see? You know who we are now. You could go to the police, you could give them full descriptions, and we would be done. This is exactly what we try to avoid and I would be lying if I didn't say I was beyond pissed off it was happening." He shot a glare at Emmaline and she met his gaze coldly.

"I did not make this happen," she said in a low tone, not looking away from him. "He found out, I tried to explain it to him, and he demanded a meeting with you. If I could have avoided it, I would have and you know that. It was either this or everything was off, much to everyone's detriment. You wish I would have ruined your plans entirely?"

"How well can you keep your mouth shut?" Dorjan asked, looking to Spot.

"I can keep it shut fairly well," Spot replied dryly, and Emmaline rolled her eyes. She doubted he would be able to keep something this big from Dragon but if he wanted to think he could, so be it. Perhaps the ever present threat of death was a good motivator for him.

"You say word one of any of this to anyone, and we can make you disappear so fast no one will know where to start looking," Dorjan stated, standing up and beginning to pace. "I want your people to stop keeping tabs on Emma. If she's followed anywhere, by anyone, we can't guarantee they'll come back unscathed. Stop trying to find information about her. Let her do what she needs to do and don't ask questions. You've put us in a bad enough situation already." He stopped to look at Emmaline. "Go back to the house and let them know."

With a nod, she rose from her chair. Spot looked like he wanted to leave as well, to avoid being alone in a room with Dorjan, but he stayed put. Dorjan didn't look like he was done talking and he didn't want to do something to make him angrier. She glanced back at Spot before she shut the door and a bemused smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. As soon as the door clicked shut, Dorjan leaned across the table.

"Get this into your head now, Conlon," he growled. "You know practically nothing of what she is – you've just scratched the surface. I wouldn't recommend trying to get any deeper. If you touch her again, you have my word that I will kill you. Personally."


End file.
